Rites of Passage
by Stark Raving Sane
Summary: (Kingdom Hospital) It rained one day. It did not stop. Not for Lewiston, Maine. People blamed Mary Jensen Hospital. They were not wrong.
1. Prologue

_After much deliberation, I've finally decided to put up my own _Kingdom Hospital_ fiction. I'm not quite sure about the title yet, but that's the one that came to me during class and that's the one I'm sticking with for the time being._

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**Rites of Passage**

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Prologue

It rained one day.

It did not stop.

Not for Lewiston, Maine.

Mary Jensen Hospital stood against the brute force of the torrential downpour that first week after the children had been saved. Everyone swore it would stop soon. Weathermen were baffled. It was supposed to be sunny and cool. But the barometers showed hurricane conditions. And so, the citisens of Lewiston, Maine, huddled in their homes, wishing away the rain and the wind. The thunder and the lightning. No one dared leave their houses unless it was important. Jobs became scarce and people relied on the relief funds that began to trickle in from neighbouring states. What had once been a lovely little town in the middle of a lovely little state had quickly become a place of terror and rain. The streets would flood one night, then trickle away the next morning so that it was safe to drive once more. But then, around seven PM, the rain would start again and those who were out in the streets had no chance of survival. The mortality rate went up, drowning the major cause. Others did themselves away, whether by pills, razor blades or the barrel of a gun. Because the rain would not stop and there seemed to be no way out. All the roads were blocked by flooding. Planes could not make their way into Lewiston. They were trapped.

Mary Jensen Hospital stood proud amid the terror and chaos. It had become apparent that many people were seeking refuge inside its walls. The hallways were littered with sleeping bags and blankets. Empty beds were occupied by those unable to get home. Doctors and nurses complained, but no one had the heart to turn them away. Eventually, they were forced to place guards at the doors to bar entry to those who were not in need of medical care. It unnerved them to see those denied access lying on the concrete before the doors, the water sloshing at their ears and hair, refusing to leave the grounds. Some people within the hospital suggested shooting them. They did not stay inside the hospital long.

Within the hospital, things began happening. Things that no one could explain. Patients began ranting about the dead that walked the halls. Others woke screaming, pleading for salvation from the devil and his boy. And then there were those that simply…died.

It rained one day.

It did not stop.

Not for Lewiston, Maine.

People blamed Mary Jensen Hospital.

They were not wrong.

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_Well? Does it seem worth continuing? Intriguing enough? I'm apprehensive about this, so any reviews would be appreciated, granted they're constructive and very gentle (I break easily)._


	2. I Hate This Storm

**Rites of Passage**

A _Kingdom __Hospital_ Novel

One

One of the few things Dr. Hook despised was water. Not the kind used for his hot showers or the kind he made his iced tea with. It was the disgusting rain water that he hated. The kind that had flowed into the hospital in all of its muddy, murky glory, sloshing at his feet and ruining his brand new shoes in the process. Oh, yes. He despised _that_ kind of water.

"Dr. Hook! Dr. Hook!"

Hook turned to see the unmistakable, round face of Bobby Druse making his way towards him, grimacing as the water soaked the bottom of his scrubs.

"What can I do ya for, Bobby?" he struggled to be jovial despite the disgusting, wet, squishy feeling in his shoes.

"The crowd's trying to get in again. Otto and Jeff are fending 'em off, but they're gonna need help."

Hook sighed, using one of his hands to comb through his unkempt hair while the other sat comfortably on his hip. And he was suddenly aware of the fact that the water had begun to creep up his ankles and towards his calves. "Can't you help them?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his less-than-fit shape. "Elmer's on his way and a few of the other patients are there, but we can use more."

"Alright. Let me run up the records on this patient and then I'll be back down," Hook sat a hand on Bobby's shoulder, forcing a smile onto his face before he waded past the young orderly. Glancing towards the direction of the elevators he mourned for the loss of their technology. In the past few days, not only had they lost the use of their elevators, but nearly a quarter of their computers had either locked up, rebooted for three hours straight or completely shut down, erasing whatever unsaved information that had been open. Which meant a painful amount of longhand and shorthand writing, depending on the person.

Compared to this, earthquakes and black noise seemed like nothing.

He stopped before the stairs, grasping the doorknob and shoving his shoulder against the door to force it open. With a great "swoosh"-ing sound, it opened, a great amount of water rushing past his legs and down the stairs.

He hoped no one was down there.

To his relief, the level of the water and lowered a bit, making it easier to make his way up the stairs and towards the neurosurgery floor. The weeks since the change hadn't been the easiest weeks of his life. Of course, they had all been impossibly happy that little Mary had finally saved and that Gottreich and "the bad boy" were gone for good. Hell, even Steg had finally resigned. Or, more appropriately, agreed to resign to save himself the humiliation after being put on probation for his anesthetic "mishap." He'd tried to save face on his last day, gathering the items from his office and giving tight smiles to his colleagues as his said his cordial goodbyes. Not that it made much of a difference.

Hook still had a faint purple ring around his eye where Steg had laid one on him.

He'd thought the Keepers of the Kingdom sign would be a fitting farewell.

Apparently Steg thought differently.

But really, nothing necessarily "good" had occurred since then. He and Chris had called it quits after a particularly passionate argument in which certain words were exchanged, concluding with a smashed vase and the key to Hook's apartment connecting with his forehead. Thing had not been cordial between them. Most people scrambled to leave the area when he and Chris were around one another.

And then this damn storm. Weathermen in Bangor still insisted that, by all accounts it should have been a bright, sunny morning for Lewiston. They promised day in and day out that the storm was dying down. There weren't even any clouds anywhere else on the east coast. Hell, New York hadn't had any rain in _weeks_. Apparently, the storm clouds (which appeared to be of hurricane quality) had stationed above Lewiston and only Lewiston. Images playing on the news showed that, at the border between cities, one could see the precise area where the storm began and where it ended. As if there were a glass partition isolating them and keeping them in their watery prison, as it were.

Hook stopped before the neurosurgery floor doorway, shaking each leg off in turn, trying desperately to rid himself of the disgusting feeling. Once he was sure he had shaken off as much water as possible for the moment, he pushed the door open, hurrying towards one of his newest patients' rooms. In his rush, he failed to look up, gaze focused on the now ruined loafers. Until he collided with another, slightly smaller body.

He grunted as his rear end hit the tile floor, oblivious to the distinctly feminine voice echoing his sentiments no more than two feet from him.

"Ow, ow, ow."

The familiar voice caused Hook's body to tense and he glanced up to find a Dr. Christine Draper seated on the floor before him, legs bent in a rather unladylike manner, skirt exposing more than he would like anyone but himself to see. Without thinking, he reached forward, pushing her skirt down to give her some amount of modesty. Chris finally looked up, obviously prepared to either scream or pummel whoever had touched her thigh. Whatever sound she had been going for caught in her throat, emerging as a tiny squeek.

"Chris…Dr. Draper. I didn't expect to see you around here," Hook announced, pushing himself to his feet and holding a hand out to assist Chris in doing the same. She waved his hand off, pushing herself up, careful not to let her skirt ride up, reaching up to adjust her hair.

"I work here, Hook," she shot, angrily, refusing to meet his gaze. In a vain attempt to save face, Hook brought his hand up from its helpful position, running it through his hair.

"No, I mean…I mean, you were up pretty late last night. I thought maybe you would have taken one of the free rooms to sleep it off," he shrugged, giving her a weak grin. Chris sighed, dropping her arms and finally meeting his eyes.

"Don't they need you downstairs?" she questioned, gently. Hook lowered his head, setting his hands on his hips and chuckling, nervously.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, looks like some of the people outside are trying to get in again. Bobby said they need some more help keeping them out," he answered and Chris nodded, slowly.

"I hate this storm," she announced, softly, before spinning on her heel and walking briskly back down the hall. Hook watched her for a long moment, allowing all signs of laughter to slide completely away from his face.

"Yeah. Join the club."

* * *

"Mommy? Mommy..."

Gloria Trujillo glanced up from the poorly written romance novel she'd allowed herself to be immersed in to find her eight-year-old daughter standing before her, over-sized teddy bear clutched in her arms.

"What's the matter, Norma?" she set the book down beside her, pulling the small girl-teddy bear and all-into her lap.

"My head hurts," Norma murmured into her mother's shoulder, heaving a tired sigh. Gloria smiled, rubbing her back, soothingly, running her hand through her long black hair.

"Do you want some aspirin?" she questioned and the girl nodded, slowly. "Alright. Come on, I'll go get you some."

She hefted the small girl up, carrying her into the bathroom and setting her on the toilet lid as she began searching through the cupboard for the aspirin. "Here we go. You want some water or milk?"

"Water. Milk makes my tummy feel yucky," Norma grimaced and Gloria laughed, softly, pulling a cup down and filling it with water, handing Norma both the cup and the tiny pill.

"There ya go. That should make you feel better," she announced as Norma shoved the pill into her mouth, quickly drinking from the cup, some of the water dribbling down her chin. "Now, back to bed. You have school tomorrow; I need you to wake up for me."

"I always wake up," Norma cocked her head to the side, struggling to look innocent. Gloria reached forward, grasping her by the waist and pulling her off of the toilet, tickling her and sending her into a fit of giggles. "Mooommeeee, my head, 'member?"

"Alright, alright. Go," she swatted the young girl on the rear end as she scurried off towards her bed. Smiling, Gloria turned to the sink, beginning to wash the cup out and clean the tiny bathroom out. She paused at the mirror, eyeing her gaunt, tired face. It had been almost two years since her husband had died, two years since she'd felt young. Now, at twenty-seven, with an eight-year-old daughter, she felt as though she'd grown thirty years. After the funeral, there had been a custody battle between herself and Norma's paternal grandparents. They swore Gloria had not been fit to care for such a young child. After all, who gets married at 17 and can possibly be able to take car of a child just shy of 20? Not Gloria Trujillo, no. Never mind the fact that they had forced her to pay for the funeral arrangements and the cemetery plot (which _had_ to be near his grandparents' mausoleum). To the day, they were still fighting for the child, despite the fact that the court had ruled in favour of Gloria. After all, what did the courts know?

Sighing, she made her way back into the living room, picking up the romance novel and struggling to focus on the fact that "Manuel" had recently placed his hands on "Georgia's" voluptuous "mounds of flesh." Gloria was unable to hide a snort.

"Mommy," Norma's desperate voice called behind her and Gloria rolled her eyes, shutting the book on her finger and cocking her head to the side, eyeing the silent TV. In the screen, she could see Norma emerge, the teddy bear long forgotten.

"What now?" she questioned, struggling to hide the irritation in her voice. Behind her, Norma opened her mouth and Gloria clearly saw blood dribble down the young girl's chin and onto her pink nightgown.

And she screamed.

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_Thanks to my three reviewers-**tIgGer-KH143**, **IsisRose** and **ChandaK562**-who made me feel a hell of a lot better about putting this story up. I really do appreciate it. And I promise, despite my leanings towards certain characters, there will be no favouring. Because favouring makes baby Jesus cry. The chapters will be also getting longer as soon as I get back into the groove of college._


	3. Blood Oxygen

**Rites of Passage**

Two

Otto believed that the woman and her child had defied all odds. Most people who tried to drive in this weather perished. They either crashed or their car broke down and there was no way for them to get to safety before they were washed away. By all means, the woman and her child should have been dead.

But there they had been, just as he began feeding Blondie his dinner. The girl lay limp in her mother's arms, pastel pink nightgown stained with blood which, to Otto's horror, seemed to have come from her mouth. Both were soaked with rain water and the woman began screaming for someone to let her in. One of the security guards stood before the sliding doors (which had since been locked to keep everyone at bay), ordering her to turn around and go home.

Which is when all hell broke loose.

A crowd of people from outside rushed forward, shouting and pleading with the guards to let the girl and woman in.

"Listen, I don't make the rules. We got enough people in here as it is. I advise you all to go home and ride out the storm," the moustached guard shouted. Otto watched with growing anxiety as the patients milling about nearby perked up, muttering amongst themselves. He had a feeling his help would soon be needed.

"Hey, come on, the kid'll die if you don't let 'em in!" a man shouted from inside. The guard glanced over his shoulder, regarding the patient with an air of misguided authority.

"Why don't you back off. I've got this under control."

Seeing the situation begin to escalate, Otto hopped off of his seat and hurried out of the security booth, sloshing his way to the door.

"Alright, Henry, vy don't ve just back away and let dis woman in," he began leading the slightly larger guard away from the door, glancing back worriedly at the desperate woman. Angrily, Henry pulled away, nearly throwing Otto to the ground.

"I was told to stand here and make sure no one gets in. I'm not about to break that because some kraut told me to," he shouted and Otto gaped, taken aback by the insult.

"Henry, let them in," a voice called from nearby. Otto turned to see Hook pushing his way through the crowd and relief washed over him. There was no way Henry would disobey the doctor.

"I was told by Dr. _Jesse James_ to stay here and I'm staying here until _he_ says otherwise," Henry crossed his arms across his chest, defiantly, reminding Otto more of his five-year-old nephew than a thirty-some-year-old hospital security guard.

"Goddammit, Henry, if you don't get the hell out of my way _right now_-" Dr. Hook made a move towards the security guard and Otto cringed. When sized up to Henry, the average-built doctor didn't stand a chance.

But before either man could make a move towards the other, a pair of men outside pried the doors open, ushering the woman in. It took a moment for Henry to realise what had happened and, by the time he got his bearings back, she had already hurried by him. He struggled to catch her, falling to the floor as a group of people rushed the now open doors. There were shouts from both sides and a group of patients from within the hospital sprang into action, tackling the intruders despite their ailments, age and sex. Otto pushed his way to the one of the doors, grasping one side and struggling to push it closed.

"Dr. Hook! Could I get some help?" he shouted. Hook stepped over the wrestling bodies, nearly tripping over a pair of men desperately fighting to subdue the other, holding the opposite door and beginning to push it closed. From behind them, a few of the intruders were pushed through the now-closing doors, grasping anything to stay inside including Otto and Hook's clothes, the doors and the arms of those pushing them outside. Finally, the doors finally touched, locking into place. Otto slumped back against them, turning to look at Hook. "I hate dis storm."

"That seems to be the sentiment of everyone, lately."

* * *

"And?" Chris peeked around the corner, watching Hook as he washed his hands, scrubs having been discarded only moments ago.

"Internal bleeding, probably a result of aspirin. Blood oxygen's been cut off from the brain too long, the only part still functioning looks to be the parietal lobe," he muttered, shutting off the water and tearing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall nearby. He sighed, turning to face his colleague with a somber expression. "She's brain dead."

"I'm sorry, Hook," Chris took a step towards him, crossing her arms across her chest. Hook shook his head, refusing to look up at her. "How much aspirin did she take?"

"Her mother said it was only half, but there must have been a hell of a lot o' halves in that little girl's seven years," he answered, tossing the used paper towels into the trash can and shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Now I have to go tell her that her daughter is a veritable vegetable and it's possible it's her fault."

"I could come with you, if you'd like," Chris announced, gently. Hook shook his head, brushing past her and making his way out.

"I don't want her to feel like we're ganging up on her," he turned to face Chris, briefly, giving her a small smile. "But thanks."

"Anytime," Chris smiled back, giving him a small wave.

Hook turned, beginning to walk down the corridor and towards the room little Norma had been put in temporarily.

"Hook! Hook!" Dr. Hook, may I have a word?"

Hook groaned, inwardly at the sound of Dr. Jesse James' voice coming up fast behind him. Instead, he turned back, forcing a smile onto his face.

"Dr. James. Actually, I was just about to inform the mother of one of my patients about her condition," he answered, folding his hands in front of him. Jesse James frowned as he stopped before the younger doctor.

"What is her condition?"

"Brain dead."

"Would that be the same patient who caused that scuffle downstairs earlier?" he questioned.

"It would."

"Damn shame. All that trouble for nothing," James shook his head, slowly, looking surprisingly somber. Almost immediately, his entire demeanor changed and he grinned, slapping Hook on the back. "I wandered if I could run a new idea by you for the hospital."

"Could you make it quick, sir? I really should get going," Hook answered, sounding as anxious as possible. James nodded, waving a hand to dismiss his hurry.

"A mourning room," James held out both hands, grinning ear-to-ear. Hook raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to respond and finding no words. "Now, now, before you say anything, just hear me out. We already have the morgue for people to mourn, I realise, but what if we created a room specifically for this. The morgue is…too cold, too impersonal. We need a room where people can sit comfortably and mourn for their lost loved ones."

"You know, Dr. James, I really need to speak with the mother," Hook announced, unable to find words for the older doctor's newest absurd idea.

"Think about it and get back to me, would you, Hook?" James called after him and Hook waved to him over his shoulder, hurrying down the corridor to Norma's room.

"I know someone's there, I heard you walking down the hall," a dull voice announced from inside the room. Hook scratched the back of his head, stepping into the room a bit sheepishly. Norma lay in her bed, machines monitoring her condition, her mother seat beside her, eyes bloodshot, the small girl's hand held in hers. "Are you the doctor who worked on my daughter?"

"Yes. My name's Dr. Hook," he held a hand out over the bed towards the woman, who refused to take it, opting instead to stare right back at the doctor. "We, um…we found some internal bleeding in Norma when we operated. It had been going on for quite awhile but only just began to worsen. It seems she had some reactions to aspirin which caused her stomach to bleed into itself. Now-"

"What are you trying to tell me, Dr. Hook? Is she dying?" the mother questioned, sharply, looking up at him, warily.

"No. No, not exactly. But…" he pulled up an extra chair, sitting at the foot of Norma's bed and facing her mother. "Her blood oxygen was cut off too long. There are…four main lobes in the brain: the temporal, the frontal, the parietal and occipital. Three portions of your daughter's brain are not functioning. The only one still functioning properly is the parietal. Now, the parietal controls the perception of stimuli related to touch, pressure, temperature and pain."

"What the hell are you talking about? Is she brain dead?" the woman's voice sounded strained and Hook saw fresh tears building in her eyes. He took a deep breath, nodding, slowly. Norma's mother made a small whining sound, turning back to her daughter and laying her head against the bed. He waited a long moment, allowing her some sort of mourning.

"You have two choices now, Ms. Trujillo: You can either leave her on these machines and give her five more years at the most like this or…or we can take her off of the machines and allow her a dignified death," he announced, softly. Norma's mother's sobbing quieted and she lifted her head, wiping her eyes and sniffing.

"How long will she live if she's taken off of the machines?" she whispered, eyes glued to the small girl in the bed.

"It's hard to tell. She could live a day, a week. She might drift off half an hour afterwards. There's really no way to predict how long she'll be able to survive like this without machines," he answered and she nodded, slowly, rubbing her nose with the palm of one hand.

"Can I have some time…" she trailed off, her throat tightening. Hook nodded, slowly, giving her a gentle smile.

"Of course. Take all the time you need. When you're ready, just press that call button right there and someone will be down here to help you with whatever you need," he informed her, standing up and making his way out of the room.

"I hate this storm."

* * *

"Is it still raining?" Jakob murmured from his hospital bed, not bothering to open his eyes. Across the room, his younger sister turned away from the window, leaning back against the cill.

"Even if it wasn't, they wouldn't transfer you," she answered, warily. Jakob chuckled, bitterly, rolling his head to the side and opening his eyes to stare at her.

"Dear, sweet, _naïve_ Elisabeth. The minute this rain lets up, I'll be able to get my money from the bank and these doctors will have no choice but to let me out," he answered, his voice breaking as a fierce coughing fit ripped through his body. He pressed a hand to his mouth, closing his eyes as his body lurched up from the bed with the force of it.

"Want me to get the nurse?" Elisabeth made her way to the bed, sitting in the chair beside him. Jakob shook his head, frowning and waving her off.

"I told you before, I don't need a fucking nurse," he shot, angrily, struggling to turn onto his side. She stood up, easing him over, jumping back when he pushed her away with strength she hadn't known he possessed.

"Would you get the hell off of me?" he shouted, angrily. She stared down at him, dumbfounded, for a long moment. "Why don't you just…go wander around? Maybe we'll both get lucky and you'll drown."

"Go to hell, Jakob," she shot, angrily, before storming out of his room, slamming the door behind her. It was ridiculous, their relationship. He hated her, despised her, wished she was dead, while she stayed with him and cared for him. The doctor had said the brain injury Jakob suffered would greatly alter his personality. Even with medication, he would most likely never be the same again.

She hadn't expected him to be this bad.

Elisabeth sighed, making her way down the hospital corridors, peeking into the other rooms from time to time. She couldn't help but feel that, if her parents were still alive, things might be better now. Maybe they could have straightened Jakob up before the car accident. And even if they hadn't been able to stop him, at least she wouldn't be stuck caring for him on her own.

Or at all.

"Elisa-Ms. Salis!" a voice called from somewhere behind her. Elisabeth turned to see Jakob's Droctor, Dr. Elmer Traff making his way towards her. "How's your brother doing?"

"Same," she shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest, eyes focusing on anything but the young doctor.

"Listen, I know it'll be hard for awhile. You'll both need time to adjust," he set a hand on her arm, reassuringly. "But once he starts on his medication, things _will get better_. I promise."

"Thank you, Dr. Traff," she gave him a thin, forced smile before brushing past him and making her way further down the corridor.

_You shouldn't have to adjust._

The thought came unbidden and Elisabeth furrowed her brow, slowing her pace.

_You shouldn't have to adjust. You're the one taking care of _him

Shaking her head at the seemingly random thought, hurrying towards the staircase.

Beside her, unseen by both patients and doctors, walked a young man, empty eyes watching her intently.

Paul grinned, black lips stretching over yellowed teeth. He had a feeling this would be easier than he had anticipated.

* * *

"What an asshole."

Lona Massingale rolled her eyes as the younger doctor perched himself on the edge of her desk. "You'd better not be talking about a patient, Elmer."

"You haven't met this guy. He actually told me to stick the clipboard up my ass sideways. You know what I was doing in his room, Lona?"

"Elmer, please, I-"

"Ask me what I was doing in his room," he leant forward, eyes widening. Lona cocked her head to the side, sitting back in her seat and watching him, warily.

"What were you doing in his room?"

"Checking his vitals. I mean, all I did was check his pulse, the whole spiel and while I'm trying to write it down, he shoots up in bed-" Elmer demonstrated with his hand, causing his colleague to jump, "-screaming at me to get out or he'll-"

"Yes. I remember," she interrupted, struggling to finish working. "I still don't understand how you became a doctor."

"I know, isn't it _awesome_?" Elmer grinned, leaning forward on the desk towards Lona. "You know, an orderly mentioned a fling we had in this world. Maybe we should…go along with it?"

"Don't make me sick," Lona muttered, pushing him away and nearly causing him to fall over. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Nope. Not 'till someone calls me. I am free to do as I please," Elmer struggled to sound smooth despite the fact that he just shoved almost a handful of peanuts from his own personal stash in his coat pocket into his mouth.

"Some of your patients might be allergic to that, you know," Lona announced, pointing towards the bag. Elmer shrugged, shoving it back into his coat pocket.

"I guy like me should wear a warning," he gave her a mock-seductive look and she couldn't help but laugh, even if she thought he was being more childish than usual.

"I really need to work now, Elmer, please," she pushed him away again, this time succeeding in throwing him off balance. He fell over sideways, his hip connecting with the tile floor next to her desk.

And she almost felt guilty about it.

He frowned as he grasped the edge of her desk, pulling himself up and wincing at the pain. "I think I bruised my hip."

"Did you diagnose yourself, Dr. Traff?" she questioned, unable to hide the small smile.

"I love it when you talk doctor to me, Massingale."


	4. Chimera

**Rites of Passage**

Three

To be quite honest, Norma remembered nothing after her mother gave her aspirin for her headache. No. No, that was a lie. She did remember feeling light-headed and a little sick to her stomach. And her head hadn't stopped hurting. Then…nothing. It wasn't so bad.

Until the world came into focus again and she found herself standing in a dark corridor in her pink bunny nightgown, bare feet growing cold against the hard floor beneath her. There was something…_wrong_ with this place. It looked like a normal building, but it was so…cold. It was bad. That was it.

Norma grasped handfuls of her nightgown, twisting them in her tiny fists. Above her, somewhere on the wall, she heard the sound of crying. She glanced up to find a large speaker, illuminated by a foggy glow from somewhere further up.

"Oh God, baby…"

Her mom. That was _Mommy_. Her face brightened and she began hopping up and down, eagerly, eyeing the speaker. But why was Mommy crying?

"I'm so sorry, Norma. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

Norma stopped jumping, frowning. What happened? Why wasn't Mommy with her?

"Norma."

The new voice startled her and she spun around, eyes wide, preparing herself to dart off in the opposite direction. Her mommy had always told her never to talk to strangers. They could hurt her and Norma didn't like being hurt.

"Norma, don't be frightened," the man smiled, gently, bending down before her. Normally, she would have found the man terrifying. He looked like that evil man she had seen on TV the night she snuck into the living room after she was supposed to be in bed. But instead, she wanted to run into his arms and let him take her somewhere safe. "I'm here to help you."

"I wanna see Mommy," she answered, backing away from him.

"You can't. Not yet. Right now, I need you to do something for me. Can you do that?" he questioned, still kneeling before her. Norma nodded, slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. "Do you see that light behind you?"

She turned, indeed seeing the bright white light sliding through the corridor.

"Uh-huh," she nodded again, vigorously, facing the man again.

"Don't go to it."

"But…" she furrowed her brow, taking another step back towards the light where she began to hear soft voices. She didn't like this man anymore. The light behind her was warm, it was nice. Nothing like the dark corridor. "But I'm supposed to go back there. I'm _supposed _to."

"No, you're not, Norma. Trust me," he held out a hand to her, raising both eyebrows. "Do you trust me?"

"What's your name?" she questioned, stepping towards him, cautiously.

"Anubis."

"Ah-noo…Ah-noo-bus?" Norma crinkled her nose as she tried the name out.

"That's right," he stayed motionless, hand still outstretched to the young girl. "Norma?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she glanced back at the light again, struggling to resist the urge to turn around and run into it. Mommy's voice was _here_, not in the light.

"I'm not a stranger. I'm here to help you," he answered. She swallowed hard, frozen to the spot, hating the coldness beneath her bare feet.

And without another thought, she ran into the man's arms, allowing him to lift her up as he stood to his own feet.

"Where're we going?" she began toying with the his hair as he walked down the corridor.

"Back."

* * *

After everything he'd gone through earlier that day, Hook was not surprised when he collapsed onto one of the empty beds on the neurosurgery floor, half on half off the bed, still in his coat. Last he heard of Norma, she was still hanging on, even after the plug had been pulled. Ms. Trujillo was still waiting by her bedside, praying, singing and speaking to her daughter. Some part of him, a part buried deep inside, wished the little girl would just let go. It would be easier on everyone in the long run.

In the past three days since everything had changed, he had barely given a thought to the ordeal they had all gone through. At first, they'd all believed everything had gone well. The children had been saved, Mary had founded the hospital. But as they found out, day after day, everything had, in fact, changed. Hook had had to look through his own records to find his new address. Elmer was suddenly a resident rather than a med student, which caused quite a few problems due to his overall inexperience. And then this damned storm.

"Open your eyes, doctor, the tired look is unbecoming of you."

Hook's eyes snapped open, his entire body jolting.

"Oh…you have got to be kidding me," he found himself muttering. He hadn't expected to awaken anywhere. But if he had, he was fairly sure it wouldn't be in the same dark corridors with their eery lighting that he had hoped to have been rid of less then one week earlier.

"You should know by now, Dr. Hook; I don't kid," a familiar voice answered from behind him. He spun around to find himself face-to-face with the Egyptian god in the same form he had appeared to them the last time he'd been in this corridor. "You see me in this form because it's familiar to you. And it's less threatening than an enormous anteater."

"Good to know," Hook squeezed out, glancing around, nervously.

"It's empty. No one else is here. Not yet, at least," Anubis assured him, never moving from his spot. For that, Hook was grateful. He suddenly found himself very protective of his personal space. "You've noticed things are changing. They're _wrong_."

"I've given it a fleeting thought, yes," he nodded, slowly, head still turned over his shoulder, slightly. Anubis gave a small, wry smile, taking a few steps towards the doctor.

"And you know that this storm is not a coincidence. It's not an act of nature."

"Everyone knows that," Hook answered, eyeing the creature standing before him, nervously. "I thought we fixed everything. We saved the children; we cancelled out that doctor and his assistant. Wasn't that what we were supposed to do?"

"You were. But think about it, Hook: they died. They shouldn't have been able to speak to you or Peter Rickman or Dr. Stegman in the first place. Rules don't apply here."

Hook cocked his head to the side, finding himself both intrigued and sickened by the direction the conversation was taking. "So…what do I do? Why am I here?"

"You're the only one who will admit to themselves that things are different. You get chills when the entire hospital is heated to 80 degrees. You look over your shoulder when you feel someone is watching you and you don't write it off as paranoia when no one is there," Anubis stepped closer to him, now no more than one foot away from Hook. "You're not crazy, Hook. There is someone watching you. And if you don't find out who it is, and _soon_, what happened last week will be kid stuff compared to what's in store in this new world."

He woke with a start, falling off of the bed and landing on the tile floor on his stomach.

And he had no reason to question the dream as a cold chill slid over him.

Hook stood, hurrying to the nearest bathroom and emptying his stomach into the toilet.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, you again?" Jakob eyed his younger sister with a disdainful eye as she made her way into the hospital room.

"Oh, shut up and go back to sleep," Elisabeth rolled her eyes, sitting in the chair beside his bed, pulling a book from her purse.

"Can't I have you banned from my room?" Jakob questioned, crossing his arms across his chest. Ignoring his question, Elisabeth opened her book, searching for her place.

"Aunt Judy called earlier. She asked how you were doing and if there was anything she could do to help," she muttered, beginning to read.

"Send over some money," he shot, leaning off of the bed and eyeing her book. "What the hell are you reading?"

"_The Complete Works of Sir Arthur Malory_," she answered, simply. Jakob crinkled his nose, sitting back in the bed.

"You're so weird," the room fell silent as Elisabeth became immersed in her book and Jakob began whistling, staring up at the ceiling. After a long moment, he reached over, snatching the book from her. "You're such a selfish bitch."

"Jake, give me my book back," she struggled to stay calm, watching as he skimmed through the pages.

"What the hell is this, you can't even understand it. What's a k-y-n-g-e?" before Elisabeth could take the book back, Jakob proceeded to tear the pages from it, letting them flutter to the floor.

"What are you doing? Stop it! Jakob, _stop it_!" she cried, reaching for the book. With a sudden burst of anger, Jakob threw the rest of the tattered book across the room.

"Why would you come in here to read a damn _book_?" he shouted, chuckling when he saw Elisabeth bend down, picking up the pieces of her book. "From now on, when you come in my room, you don't bring in any of that stupid shit."

She stood, clutching the ruins to her chest and glaring at the man who had once been the same person who defended her against bullies in high school. Had held her while they both cried upon hearing the news of their parents. Without a word, she hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She seemed to be doing that quite a bit lately.

_You shouldn't have to put up with that, you know._

Elisabeth furrowed her brow, whipping her head around, trying to find the source of the voice entering her mind. When she found no one, she shook her head, making her way through the corridor and toward the stairs. What she needed was a lunch. That would settle her nerves and possibly stop the shaking.

_He's being a selfish bastard. He doesn't deserve any help._

"I'm going insane," she muttered to herself, nearly dropping her book as she pushed the door to the stairway open.

"What he deserves is a nice dirt nap."

Elisabeth stumbled, catching herself against the railing and letting the tatters fall onto the stairs. At the top of the next set of stairs stood a boy, an eery grin on his face, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Don't you agree?" he cocked his head to the side and Elisabeth found herself backing up towards the door, tripping over her own feet. "What'sa matter, Elisabeth? Did I scare ya?"

She stared up at the young man, unable to find any words. Something was wrong with this kid. _Really wrong_. And she refused to voice the fears she held over his odd appearance.

"You know you want to. It's been on your mind ever since he came to and started puttin' you down like all those kids in high school," the boy took a step down, chuckling. "You were a loser back then and you wanted to forget. You never thought your brother'd be the one to bring it up again. News flash, Beth-"

He took a few more steps down, unclenching and clenching his fists. "You're still that same loser. You just don't wanna admit it."

"Who the hell are you?" she managed to squeeze out, her nails scratching the floor on either side of her body.

"Just think of me as…a scapegoat. When it comes down to it, just blame me," he answered, taking the last steps to her level and circling around, nearly kicking her shoe before he made his way down the next set of steps, his shape becoming misty before turning once more out of sight.

It took her nearly five minutes to regain her composure and make her way down to the dining room. Though the boy's words remained in her mind.

Because the idea of Jakob dying sounded to appealing for Elisabeth to admit.

* * *

Elmer had not slept well in the past three days. He had expected to be sleeping like a baby after the ordeal they had gone through. Instead, he was lucky to get three solid hours of sleep a night.

This night had been the exception.

Shortly after having a rather pointless conversation with Lona (complete with excessive flirting, he didn't mind mentioning), he'd wandered off towards another patient's room, inspecting their vitals and making his way to one of the empty temporary doctors' rooms, collapsing onto the bed almost the minute he took his coat off and curled up onto the mattress.

At first, he'd thought the voices belonged to other doctors who had come into the room after their shifts. After all, he hadn't slept too deeply lately. Then, slowly, everything came into focus, the dull colours entering his vision and shapes beginning to show themselves. And he did not like what he saw.

It took him a moment to recognise the elderly doctor from the séance, his wrinkled, breaking skin stretching and protesting with each muscle twitch. The boy, however, sent his skin crawling almost immediately; black eyes and lips stark against the sickly pale tone to his skin. They were arguing across a medical table, its bright metallic glint dulled by blood stains and spots of gore. The doctor held some sort of instruments in his hands, looking as though he had just finished mauling the body spread out on the table.

"And what use is she to us?" the doctor questioned, angrily, waving the instruments in the air, splattering red-brown blood on both he and the boy.

"Nothing. But she can get them scared. Get 'em running if she tells the right people. We can use it to work for us," the boy answered, clenching his teeth as he did.

"I told you not to fool around with the mortals, Paul. I _told_ you. I _ordered_ you, you idiot. We have to wait for the right time. That's where we went wrong last time. We _can not_ make that same mistake," the doctor shouted, going back to the body, prodding its useless innards.

"But it's getting closer. If we wait any longer, it'll be finished and we'll be _gone_," Paul shot, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched the doctor working.

_You need to see this, Elmer. You need to see his patient._

Without hesitation, Elmer quietly made his way around to get a better view of the body. Paul stepped to the side, slightly, obscuring his view of the face, though now he could see it was a woman from the limp, gender-specific bits.

"Leave it alone. We don't need you causing any hysteria right now," the doctor muttered. "Get me my things, would you?"

Paul reached to the left, grasping an old leather bag andgiving Elmer the perfect view of the face in the process.

He awoke screaming, drenched in sweat, the protests of other doctors invading his semi-conscious state.

It would be the last time he slept well for weeks.


End file.
